High-Tech, Low-Impact Do gee-whiz computer effects and tons of artifacts make a museum meaningful? by PAUL GERALD The new, much-hyped Experience Music Project in Seattle sets its own parameters in its mission statement. It says it "celebrates and explores creativity and innovation as expressed through American popular music and exemplified by rock-and-roll." Their mission statement should be expanded a bit. First, EMP celebrates and explores that creativity and innovation as expressed in those particular artifacts it was able to get a hold of; second, it leans heavily on the novelty of new technology, which will eventually wear off; third, it goes on the assumption that punk, hip hop, and grunge are the modern-day carriers of the rock-and-roll torch; and fourth, it's got a whole lot of stuff about Jimi Hendrix. It would be impossible, obviously, to have a museum -- or even a "project" -- covering all that is rock-and-roll. Beyond that, as music is an entirely subjective experience, such a project will always seem lacking or offensive to some of its visitors. Remember, it says "American" in its mission statement. Great Britain is represented by Eric Clapton and the Sex Pistols. There's almost no sign of the Beatles, U2, Van Morrison, or the Clash. Call me cynical, but I think Clapton only got in because they have one of his old guitars. Still, it's noteworthy to list some of the American bands who make essentially no appearance: Bruce Springsteen, R.E.M., the Grateful Dead, the Allman Brothers, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Santana. The whole hippie scene of the '60s -- other than Hendrix, who has his own gallery -- boils down to Janis Joplin's famous feather boa. The EMP is about artifacts (80,000 of them) and technology (enough cable, they boast, to wrap around Earth). So if you'd like to see the guitar Hendrix played "The Star Spangled Banner" on at Woodstock, get in line with everybody else and wait 45 minutes to enter "The Hendrix Experience." They've also got the guitar the Kingsmen played "Louie Louie" on, handwritten lyrics by Kurt Cobain, and a leather jacket worn by Elvis -- who, by the way, gets one picture, the same as Bob Dylan. But the EMP isn't just a museum; it's a chance to show off all kinds of Windows-based technology (don't forget that Paul Allen, an original Microsoft guy, co-founded EMP). When you walk in, after an admission fee of $19.95 and a wait (about 30 minutes at 10 a.m. on a Monday), you're in Sky Church, a lobby boasting the world's largest indoor video screen. It occasionally erupts into a music video. Next they give you your Museum Exhibit Guide (MEG), the next evolutionary level beyond the headphones/tape player you get at Wonders exhibits. You point it at things, hit the select button, and hear, instead of read, about each exhibit. So when you go into the Guitar Gallery, the MEG knows, and if you want to hear Roger McGuinn of the Birds play his electric 12-string, you point at it and click. You can bookmark things you like and later go to www.emplive.com, type in your ticket number, and find your bookmarks waiting for you. You can also go downstairs to the Compaq Digital Lab and browse the entire museum collection, research-style. There's even a motion simulator with an ever-revolving program; currently it's the surprisingly lame "Funk Blast." The height of the technology lies in the Sound Lab. Here, after another wait of a half-hour or so, you can jam out on various instruments which are programmed to your level of ability. So any fool can play "Louie Louie" -- a theory which has already been proven, of course. They've got drums that are hooked up to lights, creating a throbbing disco-like feel; they've also got keyboards, basses, drums, and guitars that let you rock out with other guests. They'll even put you on a virtual stage, with lights and smoke and a cheering crowd, and take your picture, which you can then buy as a rock poster. At Paul Allen's museum, in the same town where Microsoft is headquartered, the rock posters are produced by a Macintosh. Ultimately, all this technology left me feeling a bit empty. The EMP is like walking through a Web site, where "the world is at your fingertips" but interaction has been redefined. It's just you, your MEG, and the world. People who wear headphones don't talk to each other, and the result -- a swarming, silent crowd, many of them waiting in line -- is almost eerie. I found myself sitting in front of a video screen so I could watch people like Son House and Bonnie Raitt and Chet Atkins actually play something. Then I found myself back outside admiring the bizarre, blob-like EMP building, but thinking that the next time I throw down 20 bucks and wait in a long line, I'll be dancing in front of a stage. You can e-mail Paul Gerald at letters@memphisflyer.com.